Hell to Pay
by Theirstoryisepic
Summary: Thinking this is going to be a ChibsxJuice pairing, depending on where I get. However there are a few looks and touches and some feelings admitted to oneself. "I don't really remember how I got on Jax and Tara's kitchen table and having my leg stitched up. Everything has been a blur since I got in the van after... after the incident." Plz let me know if you're liking it x
1. Chapter 1

I've posted this chapter on here before but have made a few edits and added things.

Please let me know if you like this, I have some sort of plan of where I am going with this. I just need to know if anyone is actually reading and wanting to know what happens

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I don't really remember how I got on Jax and Tara's kitchen table and having my leg stitched up. Everything has been a blur since I got in the van after... after the incident. I'd used up all my energy in the struggle with Miles and the crawling around on the ground covering my ass by framing Miles with the coke. It was just me, Chibs and Tara in the kitchen. I'm tired as hell, all the adrenaline has left me. It must worn off on my way here. Chibs was leaning on the cupboard across from me. I could feel him looking at me while Tara stitched up my leg, I just couldn't bring myself to look back at him. I was staring at the floor, staring at nothing, seeing nothing. What happened today just kept running through my head. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have taken that brick of coke. I shouldn't have fallen the fuck to sleep. I shouldn't have lied about it. And I shouldn't have killed Miles.

I mean there were only three choices once Miles caught me with the coke, to kill him and live, him kill me, or him telling the club which in turn would be me ending up dead... I can't die. I'm too much of a coward. And I can't run. It's like I've just walked out from a field and ahead of me there is a T intersection and I have three ways to choose from, because I can't go back. So there is left, right or straight ahead. To the left there is a sign that says "you have now left charming" which would mean I would be leaving the club, my only family and inevitably dying a sad lonely death because I have no one, no real family, no other friends and I've got nowhere to run to. The sign ahead reads "Teller Morrow", meaning I stay in Charming, live with what I've done and wait until someone finds out and the club kills me for it. The sign on the right reads "hell", meaning I go and find somewhere quiet and secluded and just die.

These choices all lead to my death, so for now, I'll stay, wait and see if I can get through this without anyone finding out. As well as feeling Chibs' eyes on me, I could also feel the push of the needle through my skin and the pull of the thread, but it was all numb to me. I mean there should be pain right? Even with the local anaesthetic that Tara gave me. But nothing, everything was just numb, body and mind.

After the doc stitched and wrapped my thigh up, she gave Chibs some instructions that I didn't listen to and handed him something, pills probably. Chibs hauled me off the table, outside, down the path and into the tow truck. He drove me home, across town, which I must have fell asleep on the way because we were there in what felt like mere minutes, instead of the twenty minutes it takes. He had to basically carry me inside because I was dead weight and dumped onto the couch in the den. He disappeared out of sight and the next minute he's shoving a glass of water in one of my hands and two tablets into the other. Without thinking I did what was expected of me and swallowed the pills followed by the water.

Again, I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, hell I didn't even want to think. I felt as though that if I moved, or spoke, or even breathed to hard I would break. I couldn't though, not now, not with Chibs sitting next to me, watching, waiting for me to cry, or snap out of it, whichever I don't exactly know, but I tell he was prepared for whatever reaction I was going to have.

Believe me, I tried. I tried to speak, to tell him that I was fine and to thank him for bringing me home and that he didn't have to worry and that he could go home. I felt my mouth open and shut several times but nothing came out. Just silence. Plus this was different, this wasn't like before, I mean sure, I'd killed the Russians but that was with the help of Chibs and Bobby, whereas this? This was bad, Miles was a Son and he didn't even deserve what happened to him, which should be my unmarked grave that Happy was digging, not Miles'. I shot him at point blank range and for my own purposes. I mean sure it was in self-defence, but he was only doing what was expected of him. I'm supposed to be trying to save the club, not kill it.

My thoughts were cut off by Chibs shaking my shoulder slightly, asking me if I was alright. With all the effort it took me, I just nodded slightly and whispered a yes.

"I'm gonna crash on your couch tonight Juicy, I ain't leavin' you alone," he said after about five minutes of silence, I think, I mean it felt like time was moving so slowly. I nodded again, still not able to speak and not having anything what to say.

"Seriously Juice, are you okay? You've said all of one word since we left the factory." Again I just nodded, not trusting my voice. "C'mon kid, yeh can talk to me, I mean you're obviously no' okay." At this point I could feel my eyes starting to water up and I just shook my head slightly and then looked at Chibs, pleading with him to stop asking me questions. Hell to stop talking in general.

"Okay then, c'mon I'll help you into the bathroom to get you cleaned up and in bed." He helped me off the lounge, and before we headed to the bathroom he grabbed my face in both of his hands, me having my hands on his biceps for balance and said, "he was a weasel Juicy, don't feel bad about what you did, he deserved it. I love yeh, my Brother. And I'm glad it was him and no' you that died tonight." I looked away from him then, a tear or two spilling over, not bothering to wipe it away and didn't reply. He still had a hold of my face but I looked anywhere but at him. He moved his and my forehead together, held it there for a few seconds and leaned back, wiping the tears away from my face, kissed the top of my forehead, just below my hair line and then go it altogether.

The next thing I knew I had my head on my pillow and Chibs was throwing a blanket over me, walking to the door, a "call out if you need anything, Brother" and the light went out. Just before the door clicked shut, I called Chibs, my voice a little hoarse and said "the couch is too small and lumpy to sleep on. You can either go home-"

"That's outta the question brother."

"Or you can join me," this was more for me than for him, but I wasn't going to admit that. It was selfish of me to do that to him, I mean I just killed a fellow brother, for my own selfish reasons, though he didn't know that, but I couldn't bear to be alone tonight. Even with him in the other room, I had no idea what I might do if I was left to my own devices. I heard the door close and feet shuffling in the dark, around to the other side of the bed. There was a dip on the edge of the bed and I heard Chibs taking his boots off. He stood up and I heard the familiar clipping of a knife case coming off and a rattle of a gun and put them on the night stand. Next I heard the ruffle of him taking off his leather jacket and kutte and then it was the clatter of a belt coming undone and jeans coming off. I felt a gust of air as he lifted up the blanket, I was already facing him, lying on my non-gimp leg when he laid down, facing me. I felt safe, for the first time since I left the hell of prison, with Chibs in my bed, yeah definitely not telling anyone that. As Chibs settled all I could hear was his heavy breathing, which evened out within minutes, our breaths becoming one. The arm that I was laying on was tucked under the pillow, my elbow sticking out, Chibs found it and rested one of his hands on my elbow. I fell asleep quite quickly after that, feeling safe and warm with Chibs looking over me.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay so I decided to change to Chibs' POV for now... or for good. I don't know yet

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It was around six in the morning when my phone started going off. It was still in my pants, which were on the floor… of Juice's room… where I was… in his bed, next to him, his back to me. As I was coming out of my sleep, rubbing my face, the events of yesterday were slowly coming back to me. My phone had stopped ringing by now, Juice by my side, hadn't been woken from the call. I got out of bed and into my pants and walked down the hallway to his kitchen, flicking his kettle on before pulling my phone out and checking who called.

*I missed call – Jax*

I pressed redial and waited for my instructions for the day ahead. Tig and I had to go on a run, one that would take the whole day, wouldn't be back until about midnight. Jax and Clay decided to give Juice the weekend off, to catch his breath before coming back to business.

I had an hour before I had to meet Tig. I had a cuppa tea, a quick shower and a morning smoke. Before leaving I got Juice a glass of water and the drugs for his leg. When I turned the corner into Juice's room, the lad was lying awake on his back rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Walking over to him I placed the glass and drugs on the nightstand for him.

"Mornin' Juicy, how's yeh leg?" I asked the poor daft kid. I only got a moan in response, smiling at that I told him, "spoke to Jax, him and Clay said yeh can have the weekend off, get your shit together."

"'m fine Chibs," he responded in a cracked voice.

"Yeah, well all the same, they're giving it to you. I've got to head out, gotta go on a run with Tig. Won't be back until around midnight. Are yeh gonna be alight?" I asked, looking down at him, tempted to stroke the kids face, but decided against it. His arms were over his eyes, blocking as much of the light out from the curtains as he could. He gave a slight nod and threw his arm out as if to tell me to leave. Walking over to the other side of the bed where my knives and gun were on the nightstand, I gave his arm a friendly budge with my leg. "I'm gonna be back to check up yeh when I get back lad", closed his curtains and left to meet Tig at TM.

Coming back into Charming after the run with Tig at about 11:30, I feel my phone buzzing but I can't pull over. I'll just call back whoever, assuming it's Juice when I get to TM. As I pull up to the garage, Bobby and Hap are sitting at the table with a few croweaters, Bobby calls me over and starts talking to me, tells me Gemma had given Juice a lift home, he was too drunk to drive his bike. That's when I remember that someone tried calling. It was Juice, and he had actually called three times. He left a voice mail the last time. "Chibby everything is blurry. I think I had too much to drink... I can't think straight. I'm tired. Where are you man? I can't make it stop. I just want it to stop," his words are jumbled up, obviously drunk and he sounded upset and then he whispers, I almost miss it, "why aren't you here?" I try calling him back but he doesn't answer.

I swear as I slam my phone shut, say a goodnight to the guys and get on my bike. I gun it to life and race to Juice's house, ignoring all the stops signs on the way. I bang on the locked door for about a minute and when he doesn't answer I pull out the house key he gave me a while back, in case he forgot his… which happens quite a bit. The front room is a mess, the coffee table and lounge are kicked over and the contents of the bookshelf that not only held books but all his DVD's, CD's and computer games are littered on the floor. There is also an empty bottle of tequila lying on the floor, pretty sure it was half full from the other night when I was drinking here with him. Jogging down the hallway I check each room, kitchen – clear, office – clear, bedroom – clear. I get to the bathroom, the door is ajar and I hear a slight groan coming from in there. I slowly push the door open and there is Juice. He's sitting on the floor, back resting on the side of the tub, knees up and forehead resting on them. His shoulders are shaking, as if he's laughing. But all too quickly I realise that in fact he's crying. The bathroom smells like puke and a hint of air freshener.

Whispering, I call his name, "Juicy?" He starts shaking his head and mumbling something incoherently. "Juice? What's wrong?" And just like that he begins to laugh, a quiet, sad laugh.

"I think I had too much to drink," he manages to get out in between his laughing.

"Aye, I can see that boyo. Why are yeh drinkin' home alone, eh?" I kept my feet glued to the floor at the door, my hand still on the handle, not quite knowing if I should move towards him or not.

"Didn't start off here. Went to the club, drinkin' with some of the guys. Somehow managed to get home and thought it was a good idea to keep going, don't really know why, but it seemed like a good idea at the time…" he gave a quiet scoff and then just sat there, his chins now resting on his knees, eyes staring at the ground, probably not seeing anything and traces of tears on his cheek, making no effort to wipe them away. His words were also a slur.

I moved my back to the inside of the frame of the door and slid down, sitting on the cool tiles. "Juicy, you said in your voice mail that yeh wanted it to stop. What exactly do yeh want to stop?" I spoke slowly and softly across the room to the lad.

He starts fiddling with a loose strand on the end of his sweat pants and his face is a grimace. He gives a slight shrug and shake of his head and says in a jumble of words, "it doesn' matter."

"Well obviously no', I mean look at you! All sunshine and daisies ain't yeh,"

His face then contorts and it looks like he's going to be sick. He scrambles to his hands and knees and leans into the toilet bowl and he's hurling. Once. Twice. Three times the charm. He stays there for a few minutes. While he's moving back to his place against the tub, I jumped to my feet and went to the kitchen to find a glass to fill with water and some Panadol. Taking my time getting back to the bathroom, I walk over to him and hand him the glass and drugs. He took the glass but left the drugs with me, I put them on the counter and sat back down on the tiles and watch him sip slowly at the water. He slams the glass on the floor, almost breaking the thing, stands up and stumbles into the tub/shower thing. Hands on the edge as he gets on leg over and then the others. He slouching in the tub, takes a second and then pulls himself up the wall and turns the taps for the shower, all clothed and not giving a shit.

He's leaning his head against the tiled wall with the stream of water on his back, "at least take yeh clothes of yeh idiot." He doesn't reply, it's like he hasn't heard me. He just stands there, hands on the tiles in front of him, his mouth agape and eyes are clothes, water running down his face, over his nose and into his mouth. He starts hurling again, all over himself but doesn't try to move. The boy looks like he's given up. He stops hurling and just sinks into the tub, again sitting with his knees to his chest and his forehead on his knees, like I had found him when I arrived. And then I can hear him sobbing, loudly and keeps repeating the word "sorry" over and over.

I went into his room and got him a new pair of slacks, into the hallway cupboard for two clean, dry towels. Once back in the bathroom I drop the towels and pants on the closed lid of the toilet. I start unlacing my boots and kick them off, take my kutte, jacket and wife beater off and then off with my jeans, leaving my boxes on. I walk over to him, climb into the shower, pull the lad on his feet and embrace him. He hugs me back, tries to clutch at my back, holding on for dear life.

"Shh, Juicy, it's okay," I whisper into his ear, my unshaven stubble rubbing against his smooth cheek. My right hand is cradling the back of his head, my other hand on his back, in between his shoulder blades rubbing small circles, an attempt to soothe him. "It's gonna be okay Brother. You'll move past this, you'll move on." I kept trying to reassure him, kept stroking my thumb over the one spot on the back of his. Once he calms down and his breathing evens out some I reach behind him and shut the water off, the pipes groaning in response.

"Can yeh get yerself dried and changed, or do I need to help yeh with tha' as well?" To which I don't get a response. I help the kid out of the shower, the both of us dripping wet, I manoeuvred him onto the edge of the tub and pushed him softly to sit down. I dry myself off quickly and wrap the towel around my waste and throw my shirt on. I helped Juice out of his t-shirt and sweats, to which he wasn't wearing anything underneath. The lad's got a nice pair on him. Shut up, not the time. I dried him from head to toe. I got my knees with this sweats in my hands, if I looked up I would be face to face… well face to groin, I froze for a few seconds, just looking, leaning, freezing, quick shake of my head to clear it and taped one leg to indicate for him to put it in the pant leg and then the other.

Leading the shithead to his room and putting him to bed is difficult because he is of no use, dragging his feet and leaning too much of his weight on me, but we get there and he's in bed, on his back and the blanket up around his neck. "Yeh right kid? You need anythin'?" I whisper to him and soothe a hand over his Mohawk, something I used to do when Kerrianne was sick as a wee lass. Except this feels different, less fatherly –

"Mah leg fucking hurts," he whispers in a drunken slur and throws an arm over his eyes.

"'Kay," I head to the kitchen for the drugs Tara gave me for him and got the glass from the bathroom and filled it up in the tap. Back in his room, Juice has kicked the blanket around his legs, his torso and chest exposed. When he breathes in you can see an outline of his six pack, his brown skin looking smooth, no hair on his chest, son tats covering his chest and some tattoo in some other language under his breast. His arms are all muscle and also covered in tats. Shake it off Telford. Stop looking. "Sit up lad," I tell him and hand him the tablets and then the water. I won't let him back down until he finishes the whole glass and then leave and come back with it filled and quietly place it next to his head on the nightstand. As I turn to leave the room and let the kid sleep he grabs my wrist. I turn back around to him and he pleads in a whisper, "don't leave." Without a word, I nod, find a chair next to the door and pull it over to Juice, sit down and wait for the kid to fall asleep, finding a bin at the end of his bed, I put next to him in case he decides to hurl again.

Once his breathing evens out and the hand that's hanging over the bed pointed towards me goes limp, I move that arm onto the bed and head to the bathroom, put my jeans and jacket back on, a little cool and head for the kitchen. Finding the half bottle of whiskey in one of the cupboards from last time I was here, I pour myself a generous amount and drink it, feeling the burn at the back of my throat and down to my stomach, relishing in it after the long day I had. I then raid the fridge for something to eat, as I haven't had a meal since lunch.

Once the kitchen is all cleaned up I wonder around the small house, ending up in the mess of the front room. I start cleaning the room, first by turning the table and lounge back the right way. Not knowing the order of his books and things were in I just stack them on the floor in front of the bookcase, knowing that he would just have to rearrange them anyway. He likes his things in order. Well usually, I mean he did decide to… redecorate the room while I was gone. As I stood up after stacking the bookshelf contents I feel the tiredness rushing over me. Not wanting to wake up with knots in my backs that I would get from the sleeping on the lounge I head back to Juice's room and over to the side I slept on last night. Unloading my weapons on the nightstand, taking my jeans, and jacket off, leaving my boxes and wife beater on, I pull back the blanket and shake Juice a bit and tell him to move over and get into bed. I stay on my back and can feel Juice's breath on my face, can smell the tequila. As I start dozing off, Juice shifts and he's suddenly pressed close to me with his gimp leg over my leg closest to him, an arm over my torso and his head buried into my shoulder. The kids' breath is even and slow, he's still asleep, and with that I move my hand to his that's on me and fall asleep.

Sometime later I woke up to Juice mumbling in his sleep, there was a small bit of light shining through from the moon outside and I could see his face, his lips were moving and he was speaking incoherently and his face in a frown. Without warning a shot up into a sitting position and started to yell a deafening, "NOOO!" It last a mere few seconds stopped. He stayed sitting up but he was still asleep. They say to never wake someone having a nightmare… or was it someone who was sleeping walking? So instead of waking him, I tried coaxing him to lay back down. I reached behind him and gave him shoulders a little pull and he slowly laid back down. "I'm sorry. Really, I didn't mean it," he repeated a few times, in a whisper.

"Shh Juice, it's just a dream, yeh alright lad," I said, lying down, leaning on my elbow facing him, lifted my other arm and starting stroking the side of his face.

Before falling into a somewhat more peaceful sleep, Juice uttered, "Chibs, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

"Shh Juicy, I could never," I said, still stroking his cheek, I leaned down to his shoulder and kissed the warm, soft skin. Shit. Realising what I'd just done, I froze for a second, pulled away from the kid and turned to face the wall on the other side and tried to will myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Still Chibs' POV.  
Let me now if you're still reading

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I woke up around 9am, considering it was a Sunday and I got the day off after the run I did yesterday. The bed beside me was empty and I heard a groaning coming from the bathroom. Juice must have a killer hangover. Taking my time to get up and check on the kid, I find him in the bathroom, face resting on the toilet seat, hugging the bowl with his eyes closed shut.

"Morning sunshine," I say a little too loudly in spite of the kid, and it was worth it to see the regret and hatred that ran across the hungover kids' face.

"Fuck off old man," he responded in a painful quiet tone.

"Get in the shower and clean up, I'll make you some brekky," I say over my shoulder, heading towards the kitchen. I decide to make him eggs and toast, considering his fridge is empty besides the 6 pack of beer, some butter and near dead vegetables. After ten minutes Juice emerges, clean, smelling of body wash and minty toothpaste. He sits down at the table where I put his breakfast, thanks me for it and eats slowly, in silence. I sit across from him at the table and don't say anything, drinking my tea and let the kid eat and recuperate from the hangover. Once finished, he gets up in silence and washes his plate and fork, stalling. He walks over to the bench on the other side of the kitchen and takes his antibiotics for his leg. Once there's nothing left for him to do, he heaves a sigh and sits back at the table across from me.

"I was kind of a wreck last night, so, uh… thanks for looking after me," he said with a frown on his face.

"Kind of a wreck? Kid you trashed your front room and I found you next to your toilet sobbing. There ain' no _kind_ _of_ about it," I said in a worrisome tone. At that he just lifted his hands to his face, rubbed it and then tucked them under his chin, deciding not to speak. "Cut the bullshit Juice. We both know that you're not fine and don' tell me yeh are, because yesterday is proof o' tha'."

"Juice, whatever you're thinking or whatever you're feeling, I've felt it. I've been there. I still remember my first kill. I never spoke about it to anyone, it almost killed me. So talk."

He had a grimace on face, he looked so sad and pained and then I could see him trying to compose his face in a way that Happy or Tig might have had theirs after a kill, but it just looked wrong on the kids face. When I saw that kid yesterday after Miles' his eyes were wide and there was pure fear in them and by the time I got to Tara's and told the prospects to fuck off he had just gone. His face was completely blank and neutral.

He looked up at me and just said no, simple and quick and with no emotion in his voice.

"Juice-" I was interrupted with a bang of his hands on the table.

"Just fuck off Chibs! I don't need your help okay. I'm fucking fine!" He burst out at me like I was on the other side of the house, not in front of his face.

"Well yeah I see tha'," I started at him, my voice getting louder as I went on, "I mean it's not like yeh called me and left me a voice message asking me where I was last night and why I wasn' here, or it's not like you were crying yeh eyes out in the shower, fully clothed, or you couldn't dress yourself and get into bed. Oh and it's not like you were yelling and screaming in yeh sleep last night and telling me that you didn't want me to hate you. Because none of that happened last night. Oh but wait! It fuckin' did Juice." I took in a deep breath to calm myself down and rubbed a hand over my face. I got up from my seat and around the table, pulling the chair out that's next to him and sat down, looking at him. "Look Juice, I'm worried about yeh, tha's all. So just talk," I whispered a plea to him.

"Chibs, man", he shook his head slightly and lowered it, staring down at the table, bringing his hands back up to his face and borrowing it in them. After a few minutes of silence he lifted his head up and looked up at the point where the ceiling and wall meat at the other side of the room and his arms were open wide, as if he was looking and praying to God. He opened and closed his mouth several times, an attempt to speak. "I just need some time to process this. Without talking about it and without you patronising me. Just give me some space?"

"No-"

"Chibs-"

"No I won't give you space, not physically anyway. I'm sticking with you today. I'll stop asking you questions but I'm no' leaving you by yehself today," I said, reaching out one hand and resting it on the back of his neck, giving it a tight squeeze.

We spent the day in his front room on the couch sharing funny, stupid stories of the old times, watching movies and drinking beer. We were half way through our second movie and it was around 3 in the afternoon, Juice had dozed off with his bare feet on the coffee table, beer in hand and his head resting on my shoulder. His head started twitching slightly and he was mumbling something under his breath. I took his beer and put it on the table sitting next to the couch beside mine. I brought the hand that was resting beside Juice's up to the other side of his face, trying to glance down at him as much as I could without waking him. I started stroking his jaw line and reassuring him a soft tone that he was alright and that he was safe and that it's just a dream. A few minutes passed and he fell into a deeper sleep.

The movie ended and he was still asleep so I flicked the TV over to search for something to watch while he slept soundlessly and occasionally stroking the side of his face.

Around five he started to stir and sat up and stretched, inhaling deeply and letting out a gust of slow air out of his nose. He sat back, shifting marginally closer to me, so our thighs were touching, I moved my hand from the couch and onto his mid-thigh and he moved his head back to my shoulder. He spotted a loose strand on the sleeve of my leather jacket and started pulling at it with his hand that was closest to me. We sat like that for a while, me sipping at my beer in my right hand, left hand on Juice's thigh and pretending to watch whatever shitty comedy was on the screen and Juice playing with the thread. I looked down at one point and noticed that I had subconsciously start rubbing my thumb on his thigh and didn't bother to stop, the kid didn't seem to mind it. I could help but test the waters, I slowly moved my hand to the inside his thigh, but not any closer to his dick. I heard a sharp inhale of his breath but he didn't flinch or say anything. Was that an invitation? Did I just fuck everything up? Instead of either creeping the guy out or changing things between us, I kept my hand where it was.

The sun had set and I could hear the kids' stomach start rumbling, so we ordered take out and ate it in front of the TV in silence.

Ten pm hit and the SciFi movie Juice chose finished, he turned it off when the credits started and turned his body towards me, sitting on his inside leg. "I feel like shit. Yeah you say Miles deserved it." He shrugged his shoulder, "doesn't make the quilt any better. I mean I shot him Chibs. I killed him. So no I'm not fine and I most likely won't be for a while. That's all I can give you right now." Tears had started to well up in his eyes.

"Alright lad, I can live with for now. But tha' don't mean I'm not going to asking how yeh are," I moved a hand to the back of the kids neck and gave it a squeeze and kept it there while the kid calmed down and his eyes turned clear again.

Juice started getting up and clearing the coffee table of our take out. "Uh Juice, I'm gonna head home, get some new clothes, a toothbrush and come back, I'll be about half hour." He had his back to me and I heard a "yeah" and a nod of the head.

When I got back the house was quiet and most of the lights were off. He left the kitchen and bathroom lights on, his bedroom door ajar and lights off. I had a quick shower and changed into a pair of sweats and a wife beater. Making my around to my side of the bed… since when was it _my_ side? Pulled the blanket back and got under them. Juice was fast asleep on his side, facing me. I rolled over, now face to face with Juice, lifted my hand to place it on the side of his face, stroking his cheek bone, "it's all goin' to be oka' Juicy boy." I pulled my hand away and fell asleep in minutes.


End file.
